A world of difference
by Shinora1996
Summary: Feliks Łukasiewicz, twelve years old, moves from his dear home in Poland to Belgium, where he goes to the Hetalia International College. But how long before he loses his mind with his parents causing him headaches, his classmates being extreme weirdoes and he starts doubting everything his life is based on? Transgender!Poland. Warnings inside. World Class friends spin-off.
1. Chapter 1

Hello dear readers and welcome to A world of difference, a spin-off to World Class friends.

WARNINGS: Transgender!Poland, possibly triggering at some points.  
Rating may change.

**If transgender people disgust you, please ((grow the fuck up)) go back now and do not share your dismay about the subject with the readers here. Thank you.**

~o~o~o~

Brussels, Belgium  
August 25th 2007

Not amused.

That was probably the best way to describe Feliks' mood. The twelve-year-old Polish boy was sitting on the side of his bed, glaring at the boxes that had yet to be unpacked as though they would just disappear if he did so long enough. He didn't want to unpack all that junk. If anything, he wanted it to magically poof back to his old house in Poland. Along with him.

He hated moving. They were perfectly fine living in Warsaw, so why the sudden urge to move all the way to the other side of Europe and go live in freaking Brussels?! If it was a midlife crisis-impulse from his father, Feliks swore he'd scream. Hard. Like a girl. He looked somewhat like one, so why the hell not?

That guy was never happy. He was always complaining and when he wasn't, tension could be so thick it could be cut with a knife. It was just waiting for him to have another outburst. And that could be anything. A door slamming upstairs, a sneeze, a breath or a needle dropping. His wife was stupid and always wrong, his son was a disappointment.  
Feliks' mother blamed her husband's bad moods on the economy. If the economy hadn't gone into a crisis, he still would have had his job and he wouldn't have been so grim. But things would be better now that he had found a job in Belgium.

Feliks ran his fingers through his short blonde hair and looked around his room. His wardrobe was all set up and ready to be filled with clothes again, his bed was ready to be made and his desk was ready to have homework made at it.

The big problem Feliks had with this was that the stuff that was supposed to go in the wardrobe and on top of the desk and on the bed were in the boxes in front of him and that said boxes wouldn't unpack themselves. And he sure as hell wasn't going to do it.

He sat on the edge of his bed, hugging his pillow tightly, visually threatening the boxes when his mother came in. "Feliks, have you unpacked yet?" One glance at the boxes was enough of an answer. One glance at her son was enough to tell her he wasn't quite feeling up to that.

Feliks didn't look up at his mother, but didn't protest either when she sat down next to him.

"You'll have to unpack it once."

He huffed.

"Come on, Feliks. It'll be fun here. In a few weeks, you'll be going to school again. Primary school is over now."

"How am I supposed to go to school here?! I don't speak Belgian." Feliks snapped and pressed his mouth against the pillow.

"They speak Dutch here, not 'Belgian'. And that's why you're going to an international school."

"What?" He looked up surprised.

"Your father and I have applied you for the Hetalia International College instead of the regular school we first picked."

"Oh. Couldn't you have told me that?"

"I thought you'd like it."

"I want to go home." Feliks muttered.

"This is home now, Feliks."

Silence. No it wasn't. This would never be home. Okay, the house was significantly bigger, but that didn't mean it was better.

His mother stood up again. "At least unpack your clothes and alarm clock. "We can't be late for church tomorrow." She left and Feliks dropped onto his back with a loud moan of disapproval. After having been in a car for seemingly days, the last thing he wanted to think about was church. Wooden church benches weren't even close to comfortable, especially not within 24 hours after having been in a car for many, many hours. No, then his bed was a lot more comfortable to lie on. It got the pressing pain away from his spine.

In the past hours he had watched landscapes go by, crossed borders he had never crossed before and been sick because of the bumpy roads. The white of the ceiling was a lot more pleasant to look at. It gave some rest and time to think. International school? He had his doubts. At least there would be other students who just moved into a country they didn't have a shit to do with and wanted nothing but going back.

Would there be any other students from Poland? Or from the Baltic countries? Or from Africa or Asia or something. His classmates could be from anywhere around the world. He'd have to wait and see.

He hoped that school here would be different from back in Poland. School in Poland wasn't one of his fondest memories. They were downright bad, actually. He was bullied in school, from nursery school, all the way to the end of primary school. It wasn't that he had triggered it himself. It was that his classmates were just assholes. So what if he liked to wear the tires of the cars he got for his birthday as rings and forget about the cars altogether? So what if he liked to help the girls with their hair? So yeah, he had some feminine quirks. So what? It was enough for people to start bullying him, already in primary school.

He had gone to another school in fourth year of primary school, but it hadn't made any difference. The bullying hadn't stopped, and Feliks had stopped bothering. He didn't even dare to hope for a better treatment at this school. He dreaded the first day.

A few days later, the mailman was there with a box of school books. Luckily, there arrived yet another excuse for Feliks to lock himself in his bedroom. There was one of those thick tensions in the room again, and he didn't want to wait for the outburst.

In the past few days, he had unpacked his stuff as an excuse, but when he ran out of stuff to unpack, he was forced to be downstairs again.

Then they ordered his school uniform, which he took extra long to fit. It was long enough, but it was quite wide. How fat were Belgian kids that they fitted in this?! Or was he just skinny? Okay, he was just skinny. The fit wasn't even his biggest concern. That role went to the thing itself. Horrible! What colour-blind piece of shit had thought this up?! Dirty yellow, white, dark blue, dark green and purple. Yeah, great combo, idiot.

Yeah.

He totally dreaded his first day at school. Like, totally.

~o~o~o~

This is how little, short-haired, twelve-year-old Feliks thinks about his new life. Not very positive.


	2. Chapter 2

INFO: This fanfiction will be a rather long one. It will have an estimated number of 25-30 chapters. This may change in the future.

~o~o~o~

It was the first day at school, and Feliks didn't feel like going at all. All those people he didn't know. Eeks! He had never been a hero when it came to meeting new people or socialising, but now there was even a big fat chance they wouldn't even speak Polish. He'd have to do all the talking in English, and even though he spoke it well enough, he still had that quite thick Polish accent. Not good. Not good if you wanted to make a good impression on your new classmates.

Aside from that, there was the uniform. It was ridiculous. Purple chequered trousers? For real? And that with a disgusting puke-yellow cardigan. The dark green tie wasn't even the worst. The worst thing about it was that the jacket was dark blue. This uniform had every colour of the fucking rainbow, but then greyed out. It was school after all, so happy colours were so not done.

Wearing the jacket was optional during warmer seasons, so that thing went straight out the window. Not literally, of course. He just wouldn't wear the thing. It made the total picture at least a bit acceptable.

When his mother stopped in front of the school, the nerves hit again. His mother noticed immediately, much to his dismay.

"Feliks. Are you okay?"

"No! I'm not! What if my classmates are all creepy freaky bastards who hate me? Stranger danger, hello!"

"They won't be. They're in the same boat as you are." She stroked his short neatly combed hair. "You'll be fine."

Like hell he was.

It took a few deep breaths and a few reminders not to shiver to get him out of the car and across the school yard. Away from the safety of his mother's car.

And there he was at the door. When had that happened? It still seemed too surreal that he was actually there, until someone bumped him aside when passing by. "Hey! Watch where you're going!" Feliks spat, not having looked up yet at the person that had bumped into him. When he did, his heart crumpled to a tiny dried out sultana. That guy was…huge. Huge in height, huge shoulders, huge _nose_. And still he had a baby-face.

"Did you say anything?" He asked a little too friendly and with a thick accent.

Oh, just perfect. Feliks complained to himself. Russian. "Yeah, I did. I told you to use your eyes."

The other one smiled like a little innocent child and walked away like he wasn't even there. Like he had just disappeared.

Jerk.

Luckily, the classes didn't start right away. They first had an 'introduction day', whatever the hell that was. It turned out they all had to sit in a circle in a classroom and give a short talk about themselves. The ringmaster of this ridiculous circus was, of course, their mentor. Said mentor was a complete nutcase.

"Good morning everyone. I'll start with me then. I'm Mira Bennett. I've got two brothers and one sister. My mother is Belgian, my father English, I used to live in Sheffield before we moved to Belgium. I finished art school last year, so this is my first year as a teacher. I am one of the two art teachers this school has, and I will be your mentor this year. My hobbies are reading, painting, and going to the theatre."

That woman, long red hair pinned up with a large hair clip, freckles and red reading glasses with a beaded glasses-chain, was hyper as a puppy. She darted around the classroom on her stiletto heels as though she wasn't balancing on a peanut and tried to bring some life into the room. Unfortunately, everyone was tensed. No one actually said anything but their name, nationality and if they had siblings or not. Some didn't even say that. It seemed as though everyone was on edge and keeping an eye on each other. As though everyone was suspicious of everyone.

Feliks was suspicious of at least one person, because guess what? The creepy Russian with the baby-face was in his class. Fucking great.

And then there was some stick-up-the-ass called Ludwig who looked like he came straight out of the army. His voice was deep for a twelve-year-old, and he wore his jacket, which made his shoulders look even broader. Eeks!

Feliks could see it when he looked around the circle: All the stick-up-the-asses wore their jacket. And the goody-two-shoes too. He hadn't noticed it at first, but there was a twin in his class. Two guys who looked perfectly alike, except that one looked cocky and the other one practically begged to become a target for bullies. What a wimp. On second thought, it wasn't very likely he'd be bullied. Feliks had only noticed him being there after looking around the circle five times. Geez. Speaking of invisible. He'd be the perfect ninja.

That cocky grin the other wore would probably be a little more effective if he didn't have braces. Both had braces. They were the only ones in the class wearing braces. And there was he thinking that glasses made you look pathetic. What a mistake. He should have thought of a ridiculous piece of iron in someone's mouth, leaving the wearer without the ability to close their mouth and making them look extremely lost and dorky.

Next to the cocky one was a girl with long platinum blonde hair with a bow in it. And damn, was she freaky. Unsurprisingly, she was the creepy Russian's sister. What was in his mind that might have suggested otherwise? Natalia. Creepy Russian guy was Ivan. Yeah, sure. Perfect name for a creepy Russian. The only thing better would have been Vladimir.

Freak.

Then there were three guys in a row, right next to the creepy Russian. One called Raivis was really tiny. If someone said he was nine years old, Feliks would believe it right away. Then there was a nerd called Eduard. Yeah. Nice name. Nerd.  
And another one of those guys with 'easy bullying target' written on his forehead, Toris. Long-ish brown hair and a nervous stutter. He was sort of cute, in a way. He was the kind of guy you'd pat on the head and comfort when crying because he's so damn pathetic.

Speaking of pathetic, there was a guy with an extremely annoying Italian accent, who just kept rattling and rattling on until his brother hit him upside the head and told him to keep his fucking mouth shut. Finally.  
If he hadn't done it, Feliks would have done it himself in a second. He didn't even think about how they could not be twins and still be in the same class.

And then there was a very on-edge…what the hell was that even?! The uniform said boy but the face screamed 'girl'. Yao. Yeah. Sure. Hermaphrodite.

Another bunch of uninteresting folks, and then there was a guy who was the stick-up-the-butt-king of all. No, it wasn't just a stick. That guy behaved like he had an entire pole shoved up there! Holy hell! What in the world could make a twelve-year-old act like that?!  
The answer to that was soon given. Turned out the guy was used to introductions as he, along with his name, gave his title as well. Shit, this guy was an aristocrat. And a Jew, probably, with a name like Edelstein.  
Feliks was sure that if he'd ever have to pronounce that, he'd nearly spit it and end up looking cross-eyed. Edelstein.

So far, there were only a few people Feliks would probably get along with. That quite un-ladylike girl from Hungary, Elizabetha, and the would-mister-bully-like-some-ketchup-with-this-tar get-on-a-silver-plate? from Lithuania. Those were the only two. And maybe he'd drag the other two of the trembling trio along too. Because really, they were all trembling. They were just scared of that creeper Ivan they were sitting next to, no doubt.

There were hardly any girls in this class, and the guys were mostly jerks, goody-two-shoes or just plain losers. Great.

When it was his turn, Feliks leaned back in his chair and eyed everyone into the floor with a cocky glare. "I'm Feliks Łukasiewicz, no sibli-"

"Luka-seawitch?" Someone joked to the person next to him. "Yeah, he'd look great with tentacles for legs."

Feliks sent a death-glare in the direction of the person that little mermaid comment came from. "Still better than being porcupine." Feliks spat back.

The skinny little boy, with dirty blonde hair that was for some reason spiked straight up in the front, immediately stopped grinning and gave him a very foul look.

Asshole. Asshole, who had stolen Tintin's haircut.

"Now, now boys." Mrs Bennett interrupted. "You've only just met. Do go on, Feliks."

He rolled his eyes. "Feliks Łukasiewicz, from Poland, no siblings. That's it."

"You guys are all so closed up. Don't you have any hobbies or anything else you want to share with the class?"

There was a collective silence for an answer, much to the young teacher's disappointment.

"Well then. I had a lot more time scheduled for introductions, but we are already…done." Also she felt the tension in her class, and the awkwardness that was caused by her hyper attempts to break it. "Then we've got extra long for the tour around the school." She jumped up from her desk and clasped her hands together. "You can leave your bags here and I'll show you around."

The kids all dragged themselves to their feet with very obvious moans of disapproval. Feliks shared this dread. Not only did they actually have to be in a school, now they actually had to do something as well.

They walked out of the corridor, downstairs and back to the hall behind the main entrance. From there, you could go three ways: left right and straight ahead. Three separate wings, the left and right with two floors and the middle three. When going to the right wing, there were the lockers, and behind those rows was a door to the teacher's lounge and other places they weren't allowed to be. When taking the stairs right next to the 'forbidden door', there were all labs for chemistry, physics, and biology. Basically, they had no business there either until they got to third or even fourth year.

The middle wing had the auditorium on the ground floor and the second and third floor were language classrooms.

The left wing had classrooms for history, geography, music and art.

One thing every wing had in common was that they were all old, plain and huge high windows. Nothing to see, everything looked stiff beside the pathetic attempts at the wall to cheer the miserable place up with paintings from the final year's art students.

Feliks' plan to befriend his Hungarian classmate, Elizabetha wasn't working either. She was sort of mothering over the aristocrat, who seemed really uncomfortable in a group. It was like he was a nervous little wimp who didn't know what to do when he couldn't cling to the etiquette he had so desperately learned. No doubt he was a spoiled little boy who got everything he wanted from his mummy. He wore Prada-glasses, for Pete's sake! A twelve-year-old wearing expensive stuff like that, hello!

And then the two were surprised they were being poked fun at by some Serbian guy called Stanoje. Surprise, idiot! You're weird, of course you'll be made fun of.

Feliks did have more luck chatting with the trembling trio, although it was more talking to then with. They didn't say a thing.

At the end of the day, when waiting for his mother to pick him up, Feliks dreaded the rest of the entire year. No. Not just the year. He dreaded his entire school career.

So to sum it all up: His school was boring and old, his classmates were either jerks, stick-up-the-asses or wimps, his class mixed together was the perfect recipe for extreme bullying-deluxe and his mentor was a nutcase.

Fucking great!

~o~o~o~

He still doesn't like it, does he?

**Please review?**


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